


Delivery

by waterbird13



Series: Tumblr Fics [117]
Category: The Martian - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Pathfinder was a bust, food delivery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 06:24:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7746592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterbird13/pseuds/waterbird13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pathfinder was a bust, and Mark never makes contact. Just a short little vignette examining that prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delivery

**Author's Note:**

> This is another prompt from Tumblr.
> 
> It's jus a snippet from an idea. Basically, Mark never makes contact. Food becomes an issue.

Pathfinder was a bust, so Mark’s left with resources down, stuck in his tiny little HAB, still unsure whether anyone knows he’s alive or not.

At least he’s modified the Rover now, knows it’s capable of longer journeys. It’s just a prototype, could really use some work, but he can get over to the Ares IV site.

Assuming he can live that long.

Sure, the potatoes are growing, but this is a crop on an unknown, essentially untested foreign planet, and Mark just can’t know how long things will last.

He prays. It seems stupid, but he tries. 

NASA has eyes everywhere, but Mark’s completely unsure whether or not they figured out that he’s alive until a rocket crash lands not far away.

It’s full of food. Shitty astronaut food, but food. Lots and lots of it, thousands of meals worth. More if he rations. 

Medical supplies, some tools. Little things he could really use. A tiny pod holding a data stick with movies, music, and, most importantly, digitized letters. He cries when he reads the one from his parents, although there’s one from the President on there too.

They don’t send seeds, which means they’re unaware that Mark has his garden going, which he supposes would be the case, considering it’s inside the HAB. It’s too bad, because now that he knows he’s marginally less likely to die–or at least, to starve to death–the botanist in him is curious about growing other plants here on Mars.

Still. Food.

Mark spends three hours hauling his supplies into the HAB, then another two organizing and cataloguing them. When it’s all over, he rips open a package of Astronaut Mac and Cheese and heats it up, and he swears it’s the most orgasmic thing he’s ever had.

When he finishes his food, he dons his EVA suit once more and heads back outside, gathering up some rocks so he can spell out a message.

THANKS.

It should be big enough for a satellite to pick up, and now they know he got the delivery. He’s still alive and, hopefully, will stay that way for a while longer.

Now he starts on his plans to re-modify the Rovers, to make them habitable for a long period of time, because he has a long journey ahead. The Ares IV site is waiting, and NASA is expecting him.


End file.
